I'm Not Afraid of Anything
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Part of the 2017 Summer Challenge. Hank Booth and Jeffrey Hodgins spend a night in the woods, camping in a survival shelter they've built from Mother Nature's materials. The boys share a small secret they don't want others to know. Nothing worrisome, just a look back at childhood, inspired by my son's scouting adventures. Wonder why the kids aren't included in the character list!


I'm Not Afraid of Anything- Summer of Seventeen entry

 _A/N: This is the second weekly Summer Challenge prompt for Bones fan fiction readers missing the series. Seems that even Bones re-runs are hard to come by in my area. Are y'all having the same frustrating experience?_

Jack Hodgins walked out of the weekly troop meeting with one arm around his younger son's shoulders and the other draped over Hank Booth's neck. He and Booth took turns attending the Scout gatherings with their sons.

"You boys will enjoy the Wilderness Survival campout next weekend more than you think. I've taught you both which harmful insects to avoid and what plants are edible if you get separated from your patrol and temporarily lost. You certainly won't starve being alone for a few hours knowing which berries, leaves and mushrooms you can snack on."

Jeffrey Hodgins glanced at his best friend buckled into the seat next to him, doubt reflected in his brown eyes. Hank swallowed hard and nodded slightly, silently agreeing that this survival business sounded awful. The pair had cringed simultaneously upon hearing Mr. Thompson's announcement of the Wilderness Shelter campout two weeks hence.

In order to meet the advancement standards for their troop, the boys were required to spend at least one night camping in a shelter they independently constructed of natural materials with as little effect as possible on their environment. During their patrol meeting, the scouts had split into two-person teams. Having been constant companions ever since they entered the Jeffersonian Day Care Center, Hank and Jeff nearly always chose to be partners.

However, unlike their more daring older siblings, the two boys harbored a secret from their families. Neither liked slimy things or creepy crawly creatures. After the Jeffersonian lab explosion, Booth and Brennan, Angela and Hodgins had insisted all their children learn the basics of emergency preparedness and wilderness survival. Under no circumstances did they want any family member caught without the skills to weather a trauma situation. In treating Jessica Warren's injured leg, Brennan had forestalled an amputation, just as she had by incising Hodgins' leg to prevent compartment syndrome when the Gravedigger had kidnapped them.

Parker had participated in YMCA Indian Guides and Coast Guard training. Christine's Woodchuck troop had been schooled in survival techniques and emergency procedures. Likewise Michael Vincent had completed Emergency Preparedness and Wilderness Survival Badges before leaving Scouting in high school to pursue art seriously.

It wasn't that Hank and Jeff were intimidated by the outdoors. They just didn't care for it. There were two aspects of the wilderness survival requirement they needed to satisfy, each scheduled for a spring weekend. One was building a shelter from naturally available materials which would keep water off the partner sitting inside when their scoutmaster poured liquid over the roof. The second was constructing an overnight shelter in which they would spend the night, again using natural materials found in the local area.

Agent Lester Morris' father, Andrew, a long-time member of the church which sponsored the Boy Scout troop offered his land as a site for the first shelter project. The troop assembled for the weekend in a meadow on his property, boys and parents, armed with ideas, tools, and enthusiasm. While Friday evening's one-pot stew dinner was prepared by the scouts, their elders scoured the nearby woods for branches, and saplings the boys could use. Since the kids were not allowed to use power tools without extensive supervision and that training was not the point of the weekend, the adults hoisted gas-powered saws and their cordless pre-charged cousins to cut down poles and large foliage-covered pieces for the project, making sure to avoid healthy trees in the process. After dinner, the two-scout teams had an hour to brainstorm, plan, and sketch a shelter design. These were reviewed with the scoutmasters, moms and dads, senior patrol leaders, and experienced scouts for basic feasibility. Originality was encouraged, and reasonable ideas were approved. The objective was for the boys to conceive, try, experiment, and learn as they went, what worked and what failed. A marshmallow roast and s'mores closed out the evening and the troop sacked out in the large barn adjoining the meadow.

Early next morning, after donuts and juice, the scouts set to work. They had an hour to gather materials from the field and forest; then they began assembling their shelter. By noon time, the intrepid shelter architects were ready for testing their structures, as well as very hungry. Hot dogs and chips were devoured and the competition began. One member of each pair would crawl into the shelter and sit down. The proof of each shelter's efficacy was to be whether it was waterproof to at least some extent. An adult would come by with a bucket of water and audience. Pouring water over the top of the shelter, the judge and jury waited for a reaction from each shelter's brave occupant. A yelp indicated he'd gotten wet during the test. The drier campers would be proclaimed successful, those doused; not so much.

Hank and Jeffrey planned an A frame shelter, with a long sapling wedged against a tree trunk on one end and propped up in a forked branch at the other. They would lean shorter branches against the long sapling on either side, creating a triangular framework which they lashed together with vines. The walls would be filled in with leafy branches and pine bough laid over the ones secured to the sapling. The boys had learned that evergreens deter many insects, and hoped they'd discourage 8-legged visitors that way. The boys spread pine needles as a floor for their shelter. Hank gamely volunteered to occupy the shelter, and scooted inside. Jeffrey stood next to the structure and stuck a small American flag among the leaves to signal they were ready for judging.

Mr. Thompson approached the shelter, pulling a wagon of heavy 5-gallon water jugs filled the night before. He ceremoniously released the spigot, filling three one-gallon milk containers to the brim, then closed the small tap and lifted the water. Pouring the contents slowly but steadily across the leafy shelter, he emptied each in turn. Then they waited. A brief whoop was heard as Hank's head appeared at the opening, and his bucket hat was dry. A few wet spots showed on his shoulders and back. But he was, for the most part, dry. His fellow scouts cheered in support and Jeffrey's face split into a huge grin.

This process was repeated eight times until each team's shelter had been put to the test. Half of the boys were successful, one scout remained completely dry, and two teams met with partial failure when the occupant's legs were wet but his torso was dry. The exercise was deemed a success; and all the scouts were proclaimed to have fulfilled this emergency preparedness requirement. They dismantled their shelters, spread the brush to help small critters, and packed up their gear. On the way home, they celebrated with Braum's ice cream.

Three weeks later, the troop headed for Camp Airy near Thurmont, Maryland, an hour north of D.C. The boys had spent their recent meetings excitedly planning their overnight shelters based upon what they'd learned in Mr. Morris' meadow. They'd invited Agent Lester and his dad to spend the weekend with them, although both declined the boys' offer of a custom shelter in favor of a sturdy tent. The boys had brought a tarp and their sleeping bags for a Friday night under the stars, but for Saturday's wilderness survival experience, they were to use only materials they found around their campsite. An Order of the Arrow ordeal group had partially cleared the area, but the Rockville scouts would have to rely on their folding shovels, pruning shears, branch loppers and hand saws. The teams of two were dispatched after breakfast to begin their construction projects. Jeffrey and Hank scoped out the possibilities and headed for a large pine tree surrounded by a blanket of needles and smaller lanky trees. While Hank sawed a sapling 10 feet long, Jeffrey searched for a forked branch about 5 feet tall, and dug into the moist dirt at the base of the tree trunk. The pair wedged their sapling against the trunk, piled stones to secure it and rested the other end in the crook of Jeffrey's forked branch, lashing it securely with some green flexible vines. They leant some sturdy branches barren of leaves along their main pole, and tied them in place with more vines.

Then the two gathered fallen pine boughs used them to cover the branches, and took turns crawling into the shelter periodically to check how thick their walls were becoming. When no sunlight shone through the fragrant needles, they figured they were good, and mounded the pine needles underfoot into a bed. Finally, they squirmed into the shelter together, lying side by side. Only a foot or so of space was left above their heads. They piled small evergreen fronds into their shelter, filling the empty spots. Gathering a few more very flexible pine boughs, they stacked these at the doorway to pull in and cover themselves when nightfall came.

Joining their famished fellow builders, Hank and Jeffrey wolfed down hamburgers their fathers had grilled, and spent the afternoon practicing archery. The scouts prepared another one-pot stew dinner, polished off 8 boxes of graham crackers, 12 giant Hershey bars, and 9 bags of marshmallows before listening to Mr. Morris' account of his experiences as a twelve-year-old during the 1957 Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge, PA.

Booth and Hodgins sat back silently, observing their sons, and marveling at how vigorous Lester's dad was at 72. The man had been a Baltimore Fireman for 28 years, joining at 20, rising to Chief of the Department for a decade and had taught at the Baltimore County Fire Rescue Academy for the last 14 years. The sudden ill-health of the Academy superintendent had extended Andrew Morris' career a bit longer than he'd anticipated, since he'd been appointed Superintendent for as long as he wished to serve. Beginning to consider retiring, the veteran firefighter and his wife opted to remain with the force as long as he felt able.

As twilight deepened the shadows near the troop's campfire, the survival architect teams headed for their shelters, needing to get settled before darkness set in. Mr. Thompson knew from experience that his boys would be awake at first light, no matter how tired they might have felt the night before. Sleep would likely be a scarce commodity for the nature campers, and for the adults as well.

Hank and Jeffrey had worn work gloves to hack and saw, dig and lash all day long, so they'd not had to handle any uncovered earthworms, decaying leaves, or decomposing forest creatures. But who wanted to sleep clad in dusty leather gloves? The pair lay prone and wiggled their way feet first into their shelter, pulling the pine boughs along with them to serve as a blanket. Once they were completely inside the narrow shelter they burrowed down into the soft thick layer of pine stalks and needles to further insulate themselves from the night's cool temperatures. Each finished by fluffing a pile under their heads to serve as pillows. Making sure their flashlights and water bottles were within easy reach, wished each other good night, and shut their eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

And waited.

And waited some more.

"What was that?" Hank whispered suddenly.

"Whadd'ya mean? Did'ja feel somethin'?" Jeffrey demanded in a hushed but urgent tone.

"Yeah, somethin' slimy and squishy."

"Where?

"Down by my foot."

"Ya wanna look and see what it is?"

"Nah, I'm afraid I'd mess up our shelter; I think we need to leave well enough alone, as my Pops used ta say. Besides, I'm not sure I wanna know."

"Ya got that right."

"Okay, then, back to sleep."

"Okay, g'nite, Hank."

"G'nite, Jeffrey."

Hank re-fluffed his pine needles and sighed. After what seemed like an hour, he raised up on his elbows, pushed back the cuffs of his jacket and sweatshirt, and peered at his Indiglo wrist watch. (Just like his father's.)

"Geez, Hank, now what?"

"I wondered what time it was; seems like it must be midnight already, but it's only 9:15."

"Yeah, this night's gonna drag on forever," Jeffrey groused. "I miss my bed."

"Just be glad we don't have to do this all the time, like Jeremiah Johnson."

"Or Kit Carson," Jeffrey agreed.

"I'm getting' hot, Hank."

"Me too, but I don't wanna hafta get dressed again later if it gets colder. Ya know what my dad told me? The Army makes them sleep in their underwear in cold weather, 'cause they're s'posed to be warmer that way. Can you believe that?" Sleepin' in your skivvies when the enemy might be prowlin' around?"

"I guess the Army knows what they're doin, but I sure wouldn't wanna do that," Jeffrey declared.

Hank yawned, which made Jeffrey yawn.

"Hank, moon's a lot brighter out here, huh?"

"No kiddin'. My mom likes to lie on the back porch and watch the stars. Gran'pa Max was teachin' me the constellations when he died…. I sure miss him."

"At least you got to meet your gran'pa. I never did," Jeffrey retorted.

"We gotta get some sleep!"

"I know. I'm tired, but I can't sleep."

"Hank!"

"What?"

"There's somethin' crawlin' on my leg!"

"I thought your dad said evergreens and conifers were insect repellent!"

"He did, but I guess its' not 100% effective."

"Maybe the bugs don't know they're s'posed to not like Christmas trees."

"Who knows?" yawned Jeffrey.

"You wanna see what kind of bug it is?"

"Nah, I think it crawled away. G'nite, Hank. I'm glad you're with me. I sure wouldn't wanna be doin' this alone!"

"Me neither, Jeffrey. G'nite."

Sleep finally overtook the boys, until …

"Hank!"

"What now?"

"I gotta go!"

"You had ta wake me to tell me that?"

"I'm not goin' to pee out there by myself?"

"Geez, Jeffrey, can'tcha hold it?"

"I've been holdin' it for hours!"

"Hmmm, it doesn't look as pitch black out there as it did, do ya think?"

"Nope, you're right. Before it was like Vantablack! Now it's kinda grayish."

"What's Vantablack?"

"Some really dark black paint some British artist my mom knows had made just for him. He's the only one in the world who can use it to paint with!"

"That's weird!"

"Yeah, really. So the other guy had them make Vantablack 2.0 for him, but it's not as black."

"TMI, Jeffrey, TMI. 'Specially in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, I know. My mom's like an 'cyclopedia of color information, ya know?"

"Yeah, like my mom and bones, right? I can never remember them all. Christine can, but not me. I guess I'm the stupid one in the Booth family."

"You're not stupid, Hank. My dad says there are lots of different kinds of intelligences!"

"Jeffrey, I like your dad. He knows how to make people feel good about themselves."

"Yeah, he does. But Hank, I still gotta go…really bad."

"Now you made me gotta go!"

"I can't find my flashlight."

"It's probably the lump under my stomach!"

"Got yours?"

"Yeah, right here!"

"Okay, let's do this!"

The boys squirmed out of their shelter, stood up slowly, and brushed their clothes off.

"I feel kinda stiff."

"Yeah, me too. I think the Army's idea of sleepin' in your undies would be a bad idea out in the woods like this. All the bugs could crawl in and bite your butt!"

Hank started laughing. "Or chew on something else, WORSE!"

Jeffrey snorted in response, nearly choking from laughing too hard.

"C'mon. We're gonna wake everybody else."

"I don't want anyone else knowing we're squeamish about slimy stuff, do you?"

"Nope, that's just between me 'n' you! Nobody else, ever!"

"Hey, we don't hafta walk far, We can pee anywhere we want out here, huh?"

"I guess… Kinda feels strange, though, right?"

Once the pair had done their business, the boys looked around. Jeffrey squinted up at the sky.

"Look, Hank, it's getting' pink over there!"

"Yea! It's nearly morning! We survived! Except I think I've got some chigger bites!"

"Well, we can go home pretty soon. Let's go see if anybody else is awake!"

The two crept toward the shelter next to theirs.

"Fred, are you guys awake?"

"Hank, we never went to sleep at all! What about y'all?"

"Barely."

"I'm starving!"

"Maybe we can find some berries to eat," Jeffrey suggested.

"Won't they make us sick?" Tommy asked.

"Nope, not wild strawberries or currants," Hank answered. "Jeffrey's dad showed us which ones to look for. He knows all about plants!"

Jeffrey squatted down in a patch of leaves, and stared hard at the foliage.

"Yup, here's some wild strawberries. They are still wet from the dew, so they're pretty clean."

The other three boys hunkered down beside him and plucked a few strawberries from amid the leaves.

"These are really little! Way smaller than the ones my gramma grows in her back yard, but they do look the same, so I guess your dad is right. They'd be safe to eat," Tommy remarked and popped a handful in his mouth.

"It'd take a gob of those to fill me up!" Hank grumbled after a few minutes. He pushed back his shirt sleeve and examined his watch.

"It's almost 6 am. Let's wake up the others and walk back to the big camp! I'm ready for cereal. I'm so hungry I'd even eat those twigs and nuts my mom likes."

"Your mom eats twigs for breakfast?" Fred asked in amazement.

"It's health food cereal. I forget the name. I like Lucky Charms better, like my dad, but she makes us eat oatmeal most of the time. But she sure makes good banana pancakes! And chocolate chip! And blueberry!"

"Ah, shut up, Hank! You're makin' me even hungrier!" Jeffrey complained. "I miss my mom's French toast!"

Fifteen minutes later, the four had roused their friends, grumpy and hungry as they, and the group tromped down the dirt road an eighth of a mile. They hiked around a bend in the track and the campfire area came into view.

"Gosh, I thought we were way far from the main camp! In the daylight, it's not far at all!" Tommy said in surprise.

A familiar figure was hunched over the pile of logs, stirring the ashes with a stout branch.

"Dad?" Hank called.

Booth turned around with a broad grin. "How are the survivors? You all sleep like logs out there?"

"Not a bit, Mr. Booth. Not a wink. None of us!" Fred declared. A chorus of agreement followed from the other scouts.

"Hank and I dozed off some, I think," Jeffrey mused, "but not for very long."

"I can't wait for a bath and my bed!" Hank declared. "How'd you ever do that in the Army, Dad?"

"You do what you must, to defend and protect, Bub. That's why the Army trains you tough."

"An' the Marines, right, Mr. Booth?" another scout added.

"Absolutely. All our military branches prepare you to do things you'd never believe you could. You boys have heard of Navy Seals and Army Rangers? They're the toughest, but any soldier, sailor or airman will do whatever it takes, to keep people safe."

"Same with police and firemen, like Mr. Morris. Don't ever forget that. One of these days, it might be you boys who are called upon to do the same. Scouting will help get you ready. Experiences like you had last night show you that you are tougher than you'd ever think possible," Booth answered seriously, looking around at each of the boys in turn.

"If and when that time comes, you'll measure up just fine!"

He stood up from the log he'd been sitting on. "Now let's see what kind of breakfast we can rustle up for you wilderness men!"

Mr. Thompson had been standing behind the boys, listening. He nodded at Booth with a sharp salute.

"Hank's dad is right, boys. I was a Marine, and they prepare you well. Lord Baden-Powell had that in mind when he founded the Scouting movement. You all know that history. You learned it in Tenderfoot. These campouts we take together are fun, but they have a serious purpose as well. Teaching you how to be men, how to take care of yourselves and others, whether it's camping or in an emergency."

"In our own town or across the nation. You're well on your way. None of you came back last night from your shelters. You complained you couldn't sleep, but you stuck it out! You may be tired, but you can be proud of yourselves. You did what you set out to accomplish! I'm proud of each of you."

The boys wolfed down breakfast bars, hot cocoa, cereal and milk, toast, bacon, ham, and scrambled eggs.

"This food smells smoky from the fire, but it sure tastes great," one scout remarked.

"Pops always said hunger was the best sauce," Booth grinned at Hodgins.

"Yeah, I remember our cook telling me that! The butler too," the curly-headed scientist agreed.

Booth might have made a retort for Hodgins' comment in the far distant past. But he knew that Hodgins' parents had sent him to a boarding school, occupied as they were with business when he was a child, and that the household staff were much more like parents to him than the senior Hodgins had been.

Their hunger satisfied, the boys returned to their shelters and spread the materials around the area. Little animals could use the leaves, pine needles, and other foliage for shelter and food just as they had. Having crammed their gear into the SUVs, cars, and trucks, the troop piled into the vehicles and headed home.

Belted into the back seat of Hodgins' Hummer, Hank leaned over to Jeffrey and whispered, "I'm not afraid of anything! Are you?"

"Not me, Hank, not me!" Jeffrey grinned back.

In the front seat, their fathers smiled silently.


End file.
